


Ion Trails

by 7veilsphaedra



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 07:08:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7veilsphaedra/pseuds/7veilsphaedra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ukoku discovers an unusual catalyst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ion Trails

**Author's Note:**

> 2011 Dreamwidth Saiyuki giftfic exchange community, yuletide-smut entry written for the prompts: Exposure/Exhibitionism - "All my dreams came true, I just didn't think them through". Thank you to Whymzycal for the beta.

Once, while caught in a thunderstorm, Ukoku and Koumyou witnessed a youkai being struck by lightning.

It had been a sweltering day, one where the ground radiated heat like a brick oven and sweat blossomed across the brow like groundwater through weeping tiles, but everyone was taken by surprise. All that surprise was the most surprising thing of all, since Koumyou and Ukoku had both been keeping their eyes on the huge bank of thunderheads all morning as it played across the western horizon, sweeping north and south and back again. A person would’ve had to be partially zombified not to read the signs.

Koumyou peered out the plate glass window from their twelfth-storey hotel room like a kid trying to look out from under the brim of a giant straw hat.

“I don’t know about this one.” He shivered.

“Could be fun!” Ukoku was grinning like his own version of a kid, one who’d just discovered where his mom kept the candy stashed, rocking to and fro on his heels with glee.

“I’m especially not sure about your sense of fun.”

“See? Now you’re boring me. You weren’t objecting too loudly last night.”

 _“Au contraire, mon catamite!”_ Koumyou shot him a look of disbelief. At one point, their unrestrained vocalizations and banging had brought thumps on the wall in response, and a warning telephone call from the management. Ukoku’s response at that time was to shrug and remind the concierge that they had asked for a room without neighbours. “Whenever I objected, you ignored.”

“Aw! And didn’t I make it all better afterwards?”

Koumyou gave a couple of squirms, letting off a few clicks and pops from different joints in his hips and up his spine.

“Nothing I won’t recover from,” he conceded. “But that’s not the point.”

Koumyou tripped across the floor. As usual, he never took the direct route, but wove a curvy line like a sailboat tacking against a brisk headwind.

Ukoku’s eyes narrowed when Koumyou’s fingers skittered across the front of his shirt and snuck under his arms, cinching the two of them together.

“This old cat doesn’t like getting his nice sleek fur all wet.” Koumyou breathed into his ear. “It’s cold. It’s clammy. It makes clothing stick and chafe in unpleasant places. Plus, there’s this soft, cozy and very dry bed right here.”

“You’re such a hedonist, Koumyou. What’s the problem with stretching yourself a bit to check something out? So you get a little wet? Keeps things from getting dull.”

“I like my creature comforts, same as any other rational man or beast.”

Ukoku tilted his neck back and the next minute was all about a long, slow, delicious French kiss, and the promise of good things to come later tickling at his groin.

Koumyou finally flashed his hand after they pulled apart, panting slightly, pulses racing, “How about we stick close to the room today? Spend the day around that fabulous rooftop pool knocking back some well-iced gin-tonics, smoking a cigarello or two and reading some of those trashy detective or spy thrillers they sell in the news shop downstairs?

“And then, when it finally starts to rain—” The pads of Koumyou’s thumbs traced slow circles around Ukoku’s nipples, “we can come back to the room aaaaaaannnnnnd …”

“Tempting,” Ukoku chuckled, gripping and massaging Koumyou’s buttocks, slowly rubbing their hips together. “But …”

He frowned. He didn’t know how to explain the strange prickling sensation which told him that something unusual besides a doozy of a storm was in the cards, except to just say it: “Something’s about to happen.”

Fortunately, he didn’t have to explain. Koumyou understood this kind of talk. Ukoku figured a similar premonition was why his companion felt anxious to stay close to the hotel. They weren’t priests for nothing — except that, technically, he was.

They slipped on woven grass sandals, rolled the hems of their light cotton pants over their ankles, slipped loose cotton overshirts over their tanktops, covered their heads with straw cone hats. Then, they each grabbed a bamboo umbrella from the concierge downstairs and strode out into the oppressively strong summer sunlight for a stroll through the city core.

When the sky turned the colour of silt and the bruised and bluish-purple clouds started to growl, oh, the looks of shock! The astonished cries! One would think this never happened before in anybody’s life.

It was so hot, the first few drops vapourized the second they hit dust, pocking the sidewalks with miniature craters.

Koumyou took a deep breath, relishing the scent — his favourite moment of the storm!

The droplets rapidly turned into a hissing and then a fierce pounding and clattering like a bathtub faucet turned on full, if the faucet happened to be the size of the entire sky.

A whole mixed group of humans, youkai and the two incognito sanzo priests took shelter under a theater marquee in the ring of buildings which surrounded a large and open civic plaza. There were so many, they all had to snug against each other like strangers on a rush hour subway train to make room.

They both noticed the youkai standing at the edge. Everyone did. It was impossible to miss him. It was like he was calling out, trying to attract something inevitable — a fate-magnet.

Although people had tried to clear space for him, there just wasn’t enough. The side of his body facing the storm got soaked. He shivered as cool water ran down his scalp, his neck and trickled across his back like long caterpillars crawling across a leaf. He huffed, trying to blow the steady wash of water from his lips, fidgeted and fussed and finally, before the water had stopped coming down, darted out across the plaza.

The smell of ozone told everyone what was going to happen.

There was that quarter of a second where the priests did what they always did in these situations: Koumyou stood in complete and utter stillness, enrapt, his entire attention on Ukoku.

The intensity of his focus always fazed Ukoku. He never knew what to do with it. A familiar rush of energy pulsed from the soles of his feet to the crown of his skull. He knew the gaze was only in order to watch what he was going to do, to measure if it was in keeping with that sense of harmony Koumyou always seemed to maintain, some sort of internal gyroscope, but how was he supposed to know if his right or wrong measured up?

Usually, it was off the charts wrong. Usually, Ukoku blew it big time. And, usually, he didn’t give a crap either, except that Koumyou had this way of stimulating the desire to do better in him. It was the weirdest sensation, like having the biggest and most inappropriate boner in public, a boner in front of one’s frail old granny.

This time, Ukoku capitulated, reaching after the youkai and about to call out a warning to stop him — except this time, Koumyou was the one who laid a warning touch on his wrist and shook his head to stop him.

“Wha—?” The interference staggered Ukoku. What was going on?

There wasn’t time to process it. Someone else acted instead.

“Watch out, bozo!” The stranger shouted. “The storm’s not over yet. You’re gonna get—”

“What d’you call me?” Offended, the youkai turned around.

In a flash, Ukoku figured he understood why Koumyou had restrained him.

That split-second turnaround was the demon’s death. If he had kept going he would’ve cleared the ion trail. Instead he was at the center of the bulls-eye when the blinding flash of white light was immediately joined by a deafening explosion of thunder.

When everyone’s senses cleared, it was to watch with horror as the youkai’s body convulsed and heaved on his back as the last tremors of his force rattled out his extremities. A delicate filigree of scorched nerve channels crawled like fern fronds, tiny leaves and curling stems across his skin.

In next to no time, he was dead and everyone knew it. There was no mistaking dead and he was it. There was no more life in him than in the decorative sundial etched out in bronze and marble slabs under his body.

Ukoku whistled.

Maybe there was more thunder and lightning and rain. It seemed a distant clapping and clatter managed to penetrate the shock which settled over all of them.

 

It was only long, deep inhales of freshly cooled air which kept Koumyou’s head clear.

“Shit.”

He heard Ukoku above the crowd’s maunderings. He watched as the shock overtook Ukoku. The young priest kept blinking stupidly and repeating curses like they were mantras. Since there was nothing either of them could do for the youkai, who was surrounded by a crowd of frantic people calling for paramedics, pumping at his chest, trying to listen for a breath, the best thing to do was leave. Besides, a fork of the lightning also hit the top of the marquee, where it shattered light bulbs and melted a bank of circuits. The electrical current was arcing and hissing, ominously setting off showers of white sparks and threatening to explode. Before they could assimilate the experience any further, Koumyou grabbed Ukoku’s arm and pulled him away.

He looked around. There seemed to be a pub just down the street where they could knock back a belt or two of something stiff and warm. He headed there directly, pulling Ukoku after him.

The first single malt barely registered. It took a second tumbler before Ukoku’s breathing slowed down, and his curse was followed with, “Nothing we could’ve done would’ve saved him.”

Koumyou nodded, in agreement. The smoky peat fire which flavoured his booze had also started a slow burn in his lower belly.

Ukoku looked at him as though he’d been cheated, “I might as well have been the one to—”

“That would’ve defeated the purpose.” Koumyou cut him off.

“There was a purpose?” Ukoku laughed with the irony and disbelief.

The fake Irish-style pub with its dark polished walnut wood panels and wainscotting wasn’t all that busy for a summer afternoon. A squint through the gloom revealed a few marketing types enjoying late liquid lunches and a couple of tourists with backpacks tucked between the bar and kickrail next to their stools. Enough moisture from the downpour had infiltrated the room that the dustmotes barely had enough lift to circulate sluggishly in front of the mullioned windows, sparkling as they were caught in sunbeams. Otherwise, the place was pretty quiet.

“I thought the purpose was to save his life — at least until the part where we both agreed that was impossible.”

“Yes.” Koumyou nodded, solemnly. “That was not the purpose.”

“Huh?” Ukoku took off his glasses and cleaned them with a corner of his shirt, as though that might help clear the confusion from his thoughts. “Then why did you stop me?

“It really wasn’t to save his life?” he double-checked.

“If it could’ve saved him, then yes, but since it didn’t, then no. It was his time to die.”

Ukoku just shook his head, bewildered.

“The lightning was determined to ground.”

“Wait! Huh? This was all about keeping me from getting struck by lightning?”

“No, not that. I just couldn’t bear seeing you used as the catalyst.”

“The catalyst?”

“Yes, the agent for his destruction — the moment in time and space where the falling ion lands, figuratively speaking. It’s not that important.” Koumyou shrugged. “You’ll work out in time.”

 

In the meantime, Ukoku’s heartrate slowed to normal. With that, he noticed something.

“Oh, hey!” He had suddenly spotted the tenting in the front of his pants. “Hullo there.”

“I was wondering when you were going to notice that.”

“Do you mean to tell me that I’ve been wandering around with this thing since that guy died?”

Koumyou stared. Koumyou swallowed. “You really couldn’t feel that?”

It felt like something stinking, molten and treakle-thick had splatted onto the top of Ukoku’s head and trickled down his face.

“Thank you very much!” he spluttered. “Excuse me while I go scrape my dignity off the pavement where it collapsed under that guy’s corpse.”

“You’ve seriously never noticed before, how you get them at the oddest times?”

“The oddest times?” Ukoku repeated flatly. “You mean, as in when I spot a fancy pannacotta shaped like some woman’s tit wobbling around on a dessert tray? Or as in ….?”

“As in.” Koumyou nodded, raising his cut-glass tumbler.

“Oh, fuck me!” Ukoku dropped his forehead against the polished wood of the bar, and gave it a stout thunk. “Please, be specific: as in … when exactly?”

Koumyou knocked back a couple of stout thunks of his own. “Well, for example, when Goudai…”

He paused, seemingly coy about finishing that sentence.

Ukoku wouldn’t let him weasel out of it.

“When he — when you —,” Koumyou frowned. “Listen, do we really have to go through this?”

“When I killed him?” Ukoku figured he might as well go for broke.

“Hmm.”

“Seriously?”

“It wasn’t like you found his lectures thrilling.”

“Oh, man. Oh, damn. Oh, man. Oh, damn.” Ukoku clunked his forehead down again and again. “You tell me, when else?”

“There was that time I stopped you from killing him the first time.”

Ukoku gaped at him in horror. “But there were so many people standing around that time.”

Koumyou took another good draught.

“Did they all see it?”

“Kind of hard to avoid, Ukoku, my lad! You’re quite well-endowed.”

“This is a nightmare! I had no idea I was such a creepy old pervert.”

Koumyou was at a loss as to how to deal with this sort of talk. He waved at the bartender. “We could use another round here.”

 

Back on the sunlit bricks of the walkway, everything had turned sparkly and fresh from the downpour. Enough clarity managed to penetrate Koumyou’s deliciously drunken wooze that he could tell Ukoku’s back was just a little too stiff and unyielding and his smile was just a little too placid.

“Shall we find something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.” Ukoku’s sunglasses hid his eyes.

Koumyou stopped in his tracks.

Ukoku walked a few more steps before he turned around. “There is a menu for room service if you want to order something back at the hotel.”

“But I don’t want to go back just yet.”

They were standing on a wide mall designed to direct pedestrians to the plaza. The buildings were older than in the rest of the city. Old fashioned lantern-posts sported beautiful hanging baskets of flowers, splashing natural colours next to the shop signs and neon which otherwise decorated the buildings. Puddles dotted the space between Koumyou and Ukoku and reflected a gleaming light blue sky.

“I’m not exactly thrilled about being in public right now.” Ukoku dropped his pretense at smiling. “Feeling a bit over-exposed, frankly.”

“So I gathered.” Koumyou straightened. “But I don’t really see how moping around a hotel room, or packing up and preparing to head on to your next destination alone will do much to improve your mood.”

“It beats fake hurrah-di-dah any night of the week.”

“You don’t have to fake anything with me.”

“I’m very disagreeable company right now.”

“Right, I disagree. Do you find me such terrible company?”

The question startled Ukoku. He splayed his fingers across the frame of his sunglasses and pushed them up his nose.

“To tell you the truth,” he said, “I can’t believe you never told me about—”

Koumyou waited.

“—About my strange—”

“I’m not sure that pointing it out would’ve been helpful. It isn’t as though it was some sort of booger hanging off your nose — something you could’ve taken care of with a bit of kleenex.”

“Actually …” Ukoku did smile at that.

“ _“Ahoy, Ken’yuu!”_ ” Koumyou called out in a loud voice. “ _“Time out for a wank.”_ ”

Ukoku curled over trying not to laugh. He gave a mock salute to an elderly woman who just happened to be passing by.

“ _“Before you kill that guy, won’t you take care of that hard-on? Or are you planning to wave it around until it pokes out someone’s eye?”_ ”

“Okay, okay, I got it.” He quelled Koumyou before the other priest could spout off another choice sample.

The two of them wandered off together in search of some place to eat.

“Geez, I can’t believe you sometimes. What are you? Eleven?”

“I’m hungry.”

_—Fin—_


End file.
